by Angel Payne
“You were saying?” Detective Johnson prompted Mac to continue his explanation.
“What was I saying?” he asked with a grin.
I fed him the reminder. “That he works at Scripps.”
“Right. The day after he showed up at Taylor’s apartment, I ran into him on the elevator at the hospital. I told him to stay away from Taylor. It was pretty cut-and-dry.” Again, Mac shrugged as if it were all in a day’s work.
“Did you threaten him?” Detective Johnson asked.
“Can you define threaten?”
“Don’t fuck around, Doctor.”
“I’m serious. What is your definition of the word threaten?” Mac replied sternly.
“Did you say you would cause him bodily harm if he didn’t do what you told him to do?”
“I told him to stay away from her. I suggested he not mess with me. I don’t recall anything other than that. However, he went to our HR department and told them I was creating a hostile work environment. I was put on a ten-working-day suspension without pay. That prompted Taylor and me to leave town for a bit. We both really needed a break. She had some serious vacation time accrued, and she happens to work for my cousin, who is also her best friend’s husband, Killian Stone. Since they knew what had been going on with the stalker asshole, he let her go without prior notification.”
“Mr. Stone seemed like a really great guy when he was in here the day after the break-in. Very polite and cooperative,” Detective Johnson said respectfully.
“Yeah, everyone loves Killian. That’s for sure.” Mac’s sarcastic tone made me squeeze his hand tighter. I didn’t let up the pressure until he shot his gaze in my direction, allowing me to give him a slight shake of my head. The last thing we needed was to raise suspicion about Mac’s temperament. If it seemed like he had trouble getting along with people, especially his own family members, what would that say about him threatening John?
“Detective? Is it appropriate for me to ask how you found out about the break-in at my apartment?”
“Oh, of course. A call came into the switchboard early Wednesday morning. At that point, it had been close to a week since you had last seen Mr. Busby, is that correct?” He looked back and forth between Mac and me.
“Yes. We left for the Dominican Republic last Sunday. We were there eight days when we had to leave. Today is Friday, right?” I laughed a little. “Sorry. My internal clock is still a little goofed up from the travel.”
“It is, thank God. I’m so ready for the weekend,” the detective replied. “Anyway, apparently you have a very observant neighbor who noticed your door wasn’t closed all the way. She said she knocked a few times and called your name. When you didn’t answer, she pushed the door open and immediately saw the place had been vandalized. She called 9-1-1 right away. We were really glad she didn’t go inside and disturb the crime scene.”
I leaned forward. “When can I go there? Are you finished with your investigation?” I was anxious to get my belongings.
“We should be wrapping up there today. I’ll make a phone call before you leave today and verify that. I should warn you though…”
The detective trailed off, not finishing his sentence. He made eye contact with Mac, some unspoken message passing between them. Mac gave a quick nod, and the detective moved on with a new topic.
What the hell?
“Excuse me?” I voiced before he considered starting a new line of questioning.
“Yes, Ms. Mathews?” He sounded bored and bothered at the same time.
Too bad.
“You didn’t finish your sentence. You said you needed to warn me and then didn’t say anything in the way of a warning.”
Mac spoke up instead. “I’ll go with you when you go to your apartment, Sassy. That’s all. I think the detective was just wanting to make sure you stay safe with John still running around and didn’t want to say it.” He motioned toward the recording device on the center of the table with his chin.
I looked at the black, three-armed object and then to the detective for some sort of confirmation that Mac was on the right track, but he had turned to Detective Munson and was having a separate conversation altogether.
“I think you’re full of shit,” I whispered to Mac. “But we can discuss this further in the car. I’m so ready to be done here.”
“You and me both. Seriously, what more do we need to say at this point for them to haul his guilty ass in here?”
“I can’t believe they haven’t already. Is it going to take him raping me or killing me for this to be taken seriously?” My emotions and lack of sleep were getting the better of me.
My voice must have been louder than the whisper I intended because Detective Munson replied quickly, “Of course not, Ms. Mathews. We take every case seriously. We understand your concern and frustration. As soon as we have enough evidence to make an arrest, it will be done. No matter who it is.” For some strange reason, he was staring at Mac while he spoke.
“I know, I know.” I put my hand up in surrender. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. You have to realize, I’m running on less sleep than normal and way too much adrenaline. My body still thinks it’s in a different time zone, and my nerves are shot. Again, my apologies.” If I could crawl under the table and hide, I would.
“Gentlemen, are we done here? I think Miss Mathews and I would really like to head home,” Mac asked, putting his best manners forward.
“I really need to go by my apartment first,” I reminded him.
“It’s going to put us in the middle of rush-hour traffic. Why don’t we just do it tomorrow when we have all day? We don’t have anything else planned, and it’s the weekend. Oh, actually, one last question for you, Detective, if I may?”
“Go for it,” Detective Johnson answered, looking a bit worn out too.
“Have you, meaning the police in general, informed the hospital of Mr. Busby’s involvement in all of this? I’m a little frustrated that I was given an unscheduled vacation, as we’re affectionately calling it, and that fuckstick is walking around proud as a peacock. All the while, he’s a first-rate stalker and has violated her personal information, property, privacy, and who knows what else.”
The detective grunted. “Luckily, as far as stalkers go, this guy isn’t even close to first-rate. And that isn’t to say what’s going on isn’t frightening for you, Ms. Mathews. We guarantee that charges will be pressed if we can collect evidence at your apartment that will stick to him. But it is a blessing that he’s very minor league in the world of stalkers. We’ve seen some really creepy shit in our day. Some really sophisticated, highly evolved methods of spying and invading people’s personal lives. This guy is peanuts. We’ll catch him if he’s the guy. He’s sloppy and lazy, I can tell you that much,” Detective Munson said while closing his notebook and pushing back from the table.
“Okay, that’s all great. Was that a yes? Yes, you’ve informed his employer? Or no, you haven’t?” Mac’s patience was as thin as I’d seen it.
“No. We haven’t. The investigation isn’t at that stage, Dr. Stone. I have to advise you to not do any part of our job for us, either.” Detective Johnson smirked while answering.
Again, the two stared at each other, our time at the station concluding much the way it began.
I let out a heavy sigh, breaking Mac from his tree-marking moment. When he looked in my direction, I just shook my head. No doubt he’d question me about it in the car. I’d be all too happy to let him know what I thought about the bullshit male posturing I had to witness on repeat.
“Let me just wrap all of this up with a word of warning, Ms. Mathews,” Detective Munson said. “Our team has been in and out of your apartment collecting evidence, but they remove only what they need, and they generally leave a scene just the way they found it. They are not a cleanup or repair crew.” He shrugged on his suit coat while issuing his final words of advice. “Whoever did this to your place left quite a mess, and it’s not pretty. You may want
to mentally prepare yourself before you head back there.”
“I’m inclined to say thank you because I was raised to have good manners, but when your words register in my brain, it doesn’t really feel like something I’m grateful for.” I was too exhausted to sugarcoat my reply.
We stood, shook hands with the detectives, and exchanged cards so we could get in contact with them if we thought of anything that might be relevant to the case. They agreed to keep us informed as the case moved forward but cautioned, “These things take time, so try to be patient.”
“Will you please call whoever you need to and find out if I can go into my apartment?” I reminded Detective Johnson with a sugary—albeit phony—smile.
He excused himself and walked away, ducking into an office off the hallway to make the call.
“I’m going to use the restroom before we get on the road. Who knows what traffic is going to be like.” Mac gave my forehead a quick kiss before heading toward the men’s room.
“Good idea. I’ll go after you get back.” I watched him walk away, thinking I could watch that man’s backside for hours. The thought of digging my nails into it while he drove into me made heat flare through my bloodstream.
“Ms. Mathews?” I jumped when I heard my name from behind, totally expecting to see Detective Johnson come out of the office he went into up ahead. Instead, it was Detective Munson standing a few feet away.
“Oh, sorry, I was waiting for your partner to make that phone call.” I smiled.
“Right, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine. I was daydreaming. It’s been a long couple of days.”
“I can imagine. I just want to say I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this. I know it can’t be easy. We see a lot of stuff like this go really bad, so I just want to advise you to be extra vigilant over the next few weeks. I know my partner didn’t talk about that at all while we were in there.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the room we’d just left.
“I appreciate it. Mac is super protective.” I laughed. “You may have noticed.”
“Well, he should be. If this guy is half as crazy as it seems, you can’t be too careful. That stuff on your apartment walls…well, he definitely has a colorful imagination.”
“Ms. Mathews?” Just as I was about to ask Detective Munson to be more specific, Detective Johnson called my name from down the hallway.
“Thank you again, Detective.” I shook his hand and smiled. Genuine concern was etched on his face.
Mac joined me as I walked to where Detective Johnson stood outside the office door. “Well, looks like you’re in luck. They finished gathering evidence this afternoon. You’ll want to contact your homeowner’s insurance before doing anything so they can see the extent of the damage before you start cleaning it up. You’ll probably be inclined to just start picking things up, but don’t. A lot of times they won’t file a claim if it’s disturbed before they see it firsthand. Trust me, we’ve heard it from victims over and over. It’s just a few more days, and if you have a place to stay, what harm is there?”
“Thank you for the advice. I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Mac replied. “You’re hearing him, right?” He ducked his head down to be eye level with me.
“Yes. I hear him.” I peeked around his big fat head and thanked the detective myself. “Now please, just take me home.”
“Did you want to use the restroom?” Mac reminded me.
“Yeah, I’d better. I’ll be just a minute.” I said it quietly, not trusting my voice to stay steady.
I will not start crying. I will not start crying. I will not start crying.
Until the moment I pushed through the ladies’ room door and burst into tears. At least the men didn’t see me lose it. I’d held my shit together all afternoon, and for some reason, the wall crumbled, and I went to pieces. Thank God it wasn’t like my breakdown on the jet home from our trip—but a mini-version. So much stress, so much tension and drama I didn’t want to be dealing with.
Fucking John Busby.
I hadn’t even known his last name before this afternoon. Now the bastard was keeping me from my home, my clothing, and even my car! I wanted to rip his nutsack off and bounce on it with a pogo stick.
I was so enraged, I couldn’t even cry anymore. I started trembling instead. All over. Before I knew it, waves of hot and then cold began coursing up and down my body. Oh, holy shit. I was a damn basket case. But I needed to calm down before going back out to Mac. He’d seen more than enough of my hysteria in recent days. I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, trying to release the negativity into the universe before whipping my head up and staring at myself in the mirror.
“You’ll deal with this,” I gritted out to my reflection. “You always have, and you will again.”
And I believed it. Mostly. Life had tried to kick my ass more times than I could count. I still got back up and continued to come out on top. Now I had an incredible man in my corner, fighting right beside me. There was no way I’d be knocked down and stay down.
We could conquer anything.
My new mantra.
I just didn’t expect to have it tested so soon.
Chapter Twelve
Mac
Wild horses couldn’t have held her back from that damn apartment the moment the sun came up on Saturday morning.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” She was standing at my side of the bed with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Fully dressed, hair done, ready for business.
“What the hell time did you get up?” I squinted to see the clock on my nightstand, eyes not wanting to be open, whatever time it happened to be.
“It’s already eight. You’ve never slept this late as long as I’ve known you.” She handed me the coffee and went around to sit on her side of the bed. “I sleep so well in this house,” she said wistfully. “I think being so close to the ocean is good for my soul.”
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with me? Or the multiple orgasms you endure just before bed?” I took a sip from the cup, keeping my eyes on her over the rim.
“Mmmm, maybe. You make good points. Maybe I should conduct a study. You know, for scientific reasons.” She tilted her head to the side, index finger pressed to her chin as if she were really contemplating the idea.
“In the name of science, of course.” I set the cup down on my nightstand and turned toward her, throwing my long arm across her middle and dragging her up against me.
“Whoaaaa there, Clown. We have things to do.” She halfheartedly batted at my arm.
“But science needs us. The whole scientific community is counting on your research.”
She giggled as I tickled her sides, burying my face in her neck. She smelled so good, all fresh from the shower. I loved that she was rolling around in the covers, knowing her scent would linger when she left the bed.
“Maclain Stone! I am very serious!” She tried pushing out of my embrace but got absolutely nowhere. I outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, and she was no match in the strength department either.
But suddenly I stilled, and she did too. I wondered if we were thinking the same thing. I hoped like hell we weren’t, because my thoughts had just taken a really dark turn.
“Do you know how helpless I am? I mean, really, when it comes down to it?” she asked quietly.
How did that happen? Like she crawled right into my head and plucked the thought like a daisy.
“I’m not sure this is the exact time to marvel at it, but generally speaking, it’s awesome that we are so in tune. Specific to this particular topic, however, you’re right. It is a little frightening how easily you could be physically overpowered by someone, and that’s especially scary considering our current situation.” I stroked her shoulder with my thumb while she rested her head on my chest. It seemed like a topic better discussed without eye contact, for some reason. I knew she wasn’t a fan of admitting vulnerability in any form, so for her to open up to me was extraordinary progress
in its own right.
“I think we can talk about two things here,” I continued. “I’m not sure which one will make you leap out of this bed in denial faster, so I’m going to just blurt them out and see which one sticks.”
She laughed her sexy, throaty laugh, which, of course, shot straight to my cock. I reached down between my legs with my free hand to adjust myself in my pajama pants.
“Easy there, big guy.” She patted my chest in sympathy.
“It’s that laugh. It does things to me,” I admitted without shame.
“My laugh?”
“Who am I kidding? It’s everything about you. I’m in hopeless territory, woman. I have no defense to offer.”
“Try to focus, Mac. What were you going to say before Big Mac got your attention?”
“Big Mac? Like the burger?” I joked, not thrilled with the nickname for my manhood.
“I don’t know? That sounds kind of cute, doesn’t it?” She looked up at me through the curtain of her bangs.
“I’ve always thought a pet name for your dick was ridiculous all around. I don’t think I can sign on for calling mine a heart attack waiting in sandwich form.”
She sat up and laughed again. This time, it was the laugh where she threw her head back and closed her eyes, and her hair shook free and hung loosely off her shoulders.
Yeah—hopeless, party of one.
“You tell me to focus and then do that? I don’t think you’re playing fair, Ms. Mathews.” I said her name in my best impersonation of Detective Johnson’s stuffy-from-being-overweight voice.
“Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “You sounded just like him. That was so creepy. Do it again.” She closed her eyes and waited.
“Ms. Mathews, are you saying you knew Mr. Busby was a total loser-douchebag from the first moment you met him?” I said the whole sentence while channeling Detective Johnson.
Her eyes sprung open, and she stared at me. “Can you do that with other voices? Seriously, Mac. Super. Creepy.”
“I used to call my mother and pretend to be people she knew. I fooled her every time. Killian and his brothers, Trey and Lance, and I would do it for hours. But I was the best at it. Lance is terrific too. You would like him.” I thought for a few beats. “I should call him, see how he’s doing.”
